


Domestication

by Elle82



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Gen, House Cleaning, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle82/pseuds/Elle82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on the Hannibal Kink Meme: Will turns up at Hannibal’s one day. He’s not in a talking mood so as Hannibal was planning to get on with everyday chores, he asks Will to help. </p><p>Basically, I just want Will helping Hannibal do everyday non-cannibalistic serial killer stuff like folding laundry, changing the bed sheets…that sort of thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestication

**Author's Note:**

> Breaking up the kink and ageplay with a little bit of domestic fluff! From a prompt on Hannibal Kink Meme, hope the OP likes this :)
> 
> Prompts (kinky of fluffy!) always welcome - comment below or find me on tumblr: puppyxtraining :)

Will stood on the top step of his front porch, watching the dogs as they scrambled about. He rubbed his hands over his face. Another night, another few moments of sleep snatched between dreams and cold sweats. When Will thought about it too much, wondering if he’d every stop seeing dead girls and psychopaths every time he closed his eyes, he sometimes got depressed. Not in any clinical way. But in a way when he wondered if he’d ever be rid of it, and the fact that no, he probably wouldn’t.

Will whistled to his dogs. It was still early on a Saturday. Will had planned on spending the day fishing, but the thought of being near the river, alone, made him feel strange.

This was odd. Will was used to spending time alone, from being an only child to a single parent, through his college years and even in his adult life. Will seldom sought out the company of others. But there were those days when he wanted to spend time in the company of another.

He thought about calling up Alana, asking her if she wanted to meet for a coffee, maybe lunch. But Alana would see the dark circles under his eyes, would want to talk about why he wasn’t sleeping. She would look at him like a mother looks at a poor, sickly child, one she wants to hold to her chest and soothe and coo over.

He thought about trying Beverly. He liked Beverly, she never talked crap, something Will found refreshing. But they weren’t friends outside of work, not really. They had talked a few times outside of work, when Will had been invited to after-work beers with her, Price and Zeller. But then Will thought maybe asking to spend time with her alone, on a weekend, would be strange.

Then there was Hannibal. Not technically his therapist, not technically his friend. Or was he? Will had always been certain of his relationships with people: there were friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. Hannibal was all of these and none of these at the same time. When he was honest with himself, Will didn’t mind spending time with Hannibal. He found his voice soothing and his house familiar and comforting.

Before he could think any more about it Will whistled to his dogs and went inside to get changed.

…

The doorbell rang at Hannibal’s house just after 9:30am. Hannibal had purposefully made no appointments that Saturday; he had a few chores he wanted to do around the house.

When he opened the door, Will stood there, in his familiar plaid shirt and jeans combination, holding a loaf of bread from the artisan bakery in downtown Baltimore.

“Will? To what do I owe this visit?”

“I uh…well…I remember you talking about this bakery, and I was doing some errands early and thought I’d drop by.”

Hannibal knew he was lying, but stepped aside.

“I’m pleased you did. Won’t you come in?”

Will hesitated for a moment, before stepping inside the house and heading towards the kitchen.

Set out on the kitchen bench was cleaning supplies and a tool kit. Sitting on the table just off the kitchen was a washing basket full of dirty clothes. 

“Well, I can see you’re busy Hannibal. Sorry, I…I should have called or something. I’ll go, get out of your way.””

Will laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. He self-consciously adjusted his glasses.

“No, Will. Don’t ever apologise for stopping by. I’m glad you did.”

“I’ve interrupted your day. I should go.”

Will didn’t make any movements to leave. He just stood there, staring at the items on the counter.

Hannibal noticed the dark circles under Will’s eyes. They were always there, sometimes less noticeable, but today they were unmistakably present. If Will had wanted to talk, he would have talked.

“You could stay and help, if you want to Will.”

Will looked at Hannibal, noticing that he wasn’t in his customary suit and tie. He was wearing a worn sweater and an old pair of jeans. He was barefoot.

“Umm…okay. Yeah, sure, if you want the help.”

“I do, Will. I’m going to put these clothes on to wash, if you want to get started by wiping down the benches in here, including the splash backs?”

Will nodded and rolled his sleeves up, while Hannibal took the clothes to the laundry.

Will picked up a spray bottle labeled ‘Kitchen Cleaner’. It was a plain spray bottle with a label written in Hannibal’s elegant cursive. When Hannibal returned to the kitchen holding a small insulated bag, Will held it up.

“Did you make this?”

“Yes I did. I am not a fan of cleaning with commercial chemicals, so found a recipe for something more natural. Orange peel, vinegar, water and salt.”

“Ah. I’ll have to try that at home.”

“Yes, it does wonders for surfaces.”

Will sprayed the benches and splash backs, while Hannibal took items out of the freezer, placed them in the cooler bag, and went about cleaning the freezer.

They worked in companionable silence. There was no music, no background noise. Just the sounds of two men working. Hannibal glanced over at Will a few times. He was hunched over the benches, wiping them down with the cloth, then rinsing the cloth at the sink and wiping any residue away.

When Hannibal was done with the freezer, he placed the food back in, carefully, segregating the items by cuts of meat, different vegetables and other miscellaneous items.

“What next?”

“There are a few beds to be made upstairs. Mine and the guest bed. Would you help me with that?”

Will shrugged.

“Sure.”

He followed Hannibal upstairs and to the master bedroom. Will had never been to the second floor of Hannibal’s house. It was dark and elegant. Hannibal’s bedroom was huge, with a fireplace opposite the bed and expensive looking art around the room.

Hannibal handed Will two pillowcases and Will slipped them on the pillows. He then shook out a flat sheet and threw one side to Will. The sheets smelled of softener; fresh and clean and crisp.

“Do you know how to do a hospital corner, Will?” Hannibal asked, without looking up. Will laughed subconsciously.

“I use those sheets with the elastic on them.  And they feel different to these.”

“Come around this side, and I’ll show you. These are 600 thread count Egyptian cotton. I implore you to invest in a set, you won’t regret it.”

Hannibal showed Will  how to fold and tuck in the sheet, and then he returned to his side to give it a try while Hannibal put his pillowcases on.

“They don’t look as neat as yours.”

“I’m sure they’ll do just fine Will.”

Hannibal opened up another flat sheet, Will watching closely and mirroring what Hannibal did from the other side of the bed.

They both then placed the quilt cover on the duck-down quilt, Hannibal shaking it out and getting Will to pull it tight over the bed. On went the pillows, then the decorative pillows. The bed looked so sophisticated and grown up, a far cry from Will’s own bed in his little house in Wolf Trap, covered in dog hair and a $20 sheet set from Target.

Will followed Hannibal to the guest room where they made the bed in there. Will was temped to ask who had slept here recently and as if reading his mind, Hannibal spoke.

“I sometimes have colleagues come from out of town to consult or present at a conference. I usually ask them to stay here, cook them a nice dinner. So much more comforting to stay in someone’s house, as opposed to a hotel.”

Will nodded.

“I thought you might have a maid to do this kind of thing.”

Hannibal gave a small laugh.

“I admit, I did try and employ someone to help with these duties. But we didn’t agree to the standards for housekeeping.  So I’m sorry to say she didn’t last long. However I find the process of keeping house soothing and relaxing. Very domestic.”

A beep sounded from downstairs.

“Ah. That will be the washing done. I’ll task you with hanging them up, while I tidy up in the garden.”

Will followed Hannibal again back downstairs.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so rude Will. Would you like something to drink, perhaps some water or a cup of tea or coffee?”

“Water would be good.”

Hannibal filled a glass with filtered water from the fridge and handed it to Will. As he drank it, Hannibal filled a basket with the damp clothes from the machine in the laundry, placing a small box of pegs on top.

“You don’t have a drier?”

“I do. But it’s such a beautiful day, why wouldn’t we let the sun do the work? That’s something funny I’ve never understood about America. Many people don’t like to hang their clothes outside. Why?”

Will shrugged.

“Easier to throw them in the drier, I guess?”

Hannibal headed outside.

“The clothes line is at the side of the house. I’ll be out here in the garden if you need anything.”

Will nodded and headed to the clothesline. It was indeed a beautiful day, sunny, but not too hot. Will placed the basked on the ground and began to fish items out of it, hanging them up.

When Will was growing up in Louisiana, they used to hang their clothes up on lines his father had strung up out the back of their house. When Will was a little older, he’d try and remember his mother, perhaps hanging out the sheets on a summer’s day, dressed in a flowery dress, laughing as Will ran in and out of the lines of laundry. But no memory existed.

Will felt a pang of awkwardness as he hung up Hannibal’s clothes and underwear. It was intimate, handling clothes that had been so close to private, unknown parts of Hannibal’s body. So he did his best to be quick with the underwear. There were the standard socks, undershirts and tea towels, as well as five or six white aprons.

When Will was done, he went back around to where Hannibal was. He was painstakingly trimming a low hedge that bordered the back fence.

“Are you good with furniture, Will?”

“I’m okay with it. What else needs to be done?”

“See that table and those chairs?”

Hannibal pointed to the set on the back terrace.

“I noticed a bit of a wobble on them the other day. Could you take a look at them and perhaps tighten the screws?”

Will nodded and went over, grabbing the box of tools from the kitchen counter and bringing his water with him.

Hannibal watched Will from over the top of his hedge. No doubt Will had plenty of things to tinker with at his own home – motors, fishing gear – never mind what was housed in the large barn on Will’s property. The fact that he had sought out human company said something for Will’s frame of mind that Saturday.

Will tightened the nuts and bolts on the two chairs and the table, and gave them a good wipe down with a damp cloth. By the time he was done, Hannibal had also finished his pruning.

“They were a little loose, but I’ve tightened them up.”

Hannibal places his weight on the chair and checked the table for sturdiness.

“That looks great. Well done Will.”

Will smiled and ducked his head in that way he was so fond of, uncomfortable with praise.

“Well, I think we’ve both deserved some lunch. There is nothing else that requires my urgent attention. We can have some of that bread you brought.”

Will followed Hannibal inside and washed his hands at the sink after Hannibal had.

“Uh, maybe I should get going. I feel like I’ve been in the way, I’m sorry, I should have left earlier.”

“You’re not in the way, Will. On the contrary, I have enjoyed your company and your help immensely.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am always sure, Will.”

Will gave a small smile and watched while Hannibal made lunch.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Would you be so kind as to head out to the garden and pick me two tomatoes, and a few leaves of basil?”

“Sure.”

Will returned momentarily with the items, and Hannibal made a quick bruschetta, along with some fresh buffalo mozzarella and some prosciutto on the side.

“Let’s eat this on the terrace, seeing as you did such a fine job in fixing up the chairs and table.”

Will helped Hannibal with the food and the plates, taking a seat while Hannibal returned inside for a bottle of chilled prosecco and two wine glasses.

Hannibal popped the cork and filled the glasses.

“What’s the occasion?”

“There doesn’t always need to be the occasion to enjoy a drink, Will. This is one of Veneto’s finest drops, harvested from an area not far from Venice. Have you ever been to Italy, Will?”

Will shook his head, clinking the glass offered to him my Hannibal and taking a sip.

“No, never. Never been out of the US, actually.”

Hannibal seemed surprised by this.

“Never? Well, we must remedy that.”

Will laughed again and started eating.  Hannibal took that as a sign that perhaps Will didn’t want to talk any further on the subject, so they just ate and drank in silence.

When they were done, they cleared the table, Will finishing his second glass of prosecco. He didn’t seem to want to make a move to leave.

“Will, I have some work to do in my study…”

“Oh, of course. Well I guess I’ll be off. Thanks again Hannibal, I…”

Hannibal smiled. He didn’t do it often, but he felt himself smiling more often around Will.

“That is not what I meant, good Will. I wondered if you wanted to join me in the study, you could read something from my collection, or take a book out to the garden.”

Will seemed to think about this for a moment. It was as if he longed to say yes, but was used to saying no.

“Well…as long as I won’t be imposing.”

“Not at all, Will.”

Hannibal placed his hand gently on Will’s shoulder and guided him to the study. Will had been in there only a few times before, but it seemed a smaller version of his office, in rich dark wood and expensive looking carpet. It was lighter though, than his office, with a more homely feel to it.

Hannibal sat at the desk and gestured to the floor-to-ceiling bookcase that lined the wall opposite the window.

“Read what you wish. Hopefully you will find something interesting here.”

Will scanned the titles. There was a mix of books, from philosophy and psychology, through to classical fiction and more modern titles that Will recognised.

Will chose a book and headed over to the couch.

“What did you choose?”

“Uh,  _The Secret History_  by Donna Tartt?”

“A fine choice. It is about a murder amongst a group of Classics students at an American college. It was recommended to me as I began my own studies here in the United States. I think you’ll like it.”

Will settled into the couch and began to read.

…

They had been sitting in silence for an hour, Will reading and Hannibal going over some patient notes and writing in his journal. Every now and again, he glanced over at Will. He read quickly, if the page turning was anything to go by.

Will was less than a hundred pages in when he felt his eyes begin to droop, the prosecco from earlier making him feel drowsy. Will glanced over at Hannibal who seemed engrossed in his writing. Surely he wouldn’t notice if Will shut his eyes for a few moments?

Hannibal had been writing up his notes for a particularly troubling patient when he heard a soft snore coming from the couch. He looked up. Will had fallen asleep, with the book in his lap.

Hannibal smiled and quietly walked over to Will. Hannibal removed the book from Will’s hands, took note of the page number and placed the book on the side table.

Then, he carefully removed Will’s glasses placing them on top of the book. Will shifted and mumbled something in his sleep, burrowing deeper into the couch.

Kneeling before him, Hannibal slowly slipped off Will’s shoes and gently lifted his legs onto the couch.

Grabbing a light throw from one of the nearby armchairs, Hannibal shook it out and draped it over the sleeping form. Will mumbled again, and Hannibal placed a gentle hand on the side of Will’s cheek.

“Shhh, good Will. Rest now.”

Will immediately settled and Hannibal returned to his desk. Placing the ribbon in his journal, Hannibal shut it and then retrieved his sketchpad from the bottom drawer.

Sharpening his pencil with a scalpel, Hannibal began to sketch as Will continued to sleep a dreamless sleep.

…

When Will woke, it was early evening. He was warm and comfortable and almost didn’t want to move. So he allowed himself to come to slowly, lazily.

His glasses were gone, so it took a little while longer for his eyes to focus. He was under a blanket and he felt safe. Will could see slight movement at the desk. It was Hannibal.

Hannibal knew Will was awake but didn’t want to say anything. He continued to sketch, adding depth and shadows to his drawing.

“Were you going to let me sleep all night?” Will asked groggily from the couch.

Hannibal glanced at his desk clock. It was 5:30.

“No. But you desperately need the sleep, I may have been tempted to.”

Will continued to watch Hannibal, the light from the desk lamp softening his features. His hair fell forward as he drew, and Will felt a small twinge of attraction.

“No dreams, Will?”

Will laughed and very slowly began to get up off the couch, straightening his clothes and putting on his glasses.

“No, no dreams. I feel…relaxed.”

“That is good. I’m pleased.”

“I really should go though. The dogs need feeding and they’ll be wondering where I am. Last time I was gone this long, they conspired to pull the bed sheets off my bed and sleep on them.”

Hannibal closed the cover of his sketch-pad.

“Why did you come here today, Will?”

Will fiddled with his glasses, adjusting them so that the top frame was blocking his line of sight.

“I…I had some things to do in town. And I thought I’d stop by.”

“Is that really the reason?”

Will folded the blanket that had covered him, placing it on the arm of the couch. He picked the book off of the side table where Hannibal had put it.

“Do you mind if I borrow this? I liked how it started.”

“Will.”

“Okay, Hannibal. Fine. I was lonely. Alright? Are you happy? I was lonely and I wanted to be around someone.”

Will didn’t yell. It was more a frustrated but measured explosion of words. Hannibal paused, stood up and walked over to Will.

“Why me? Why here?”

Will swallowed.

“I…I don’t know. I feel safe here. I feel comfortable with you.”

“I’m glad, Will. I’m glad you feel that way. You must not be ashamed of it. There is nothing wrong with wanting human company. There is nothing wrong with feeling lonely.”

Hannibal slowly reached out and adjusted Will’s glasses.

“Thank you, Hannibal.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of traffic outside. Someone was using a hedge trimmer in the neighbourhood. A car horn honking from somewhere down the street.

“Any time, Will.”

Will walked towards the door, with Hannibal following him.

“Goodnight, Hannibal. Thank you for the lunch and the book.”

“You’re welcome Will, goodnight.”

Another pause, then Will headed down the steps and to his car, casting one last look back at his friend, standing by the door.

…

When Will got home, the dogs jumped all over him, even though he had trained them not to.

“Okay guys, I get it, you missed me. I’m sorry!”

Will laughed and watched as they dispersed to run around the yard, relieve themselves and come back for dinner.

After pouring two fingers of whiskey, Will doled out kibble into the seven bowls on the porch. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was a text message from Hannibal.

_I thoroughly enjoyed your company today. You are welcome anytime. You’re up to page 86. H._

Will tapped a reply back.

_Thanks again Hannibal. Goodnight. W._

Will smiled and sat, watching the dogs eat.  There would be no bad dreams tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: The scene where Hannibal adjusts Will's glasses is taken from the show, episode one, in the exchange between Will and Jack Crawford. Original script talks about why Will wear's his glasses the way he does sometimes, to block line of sight.


End file.
